


It Feels Fantastic

by BerityBaker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Imagine your OTP, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerityBaker/pseuds/BerityBaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really wanted to write some Johnlock fluff. I also wanted to post Johnlock before I was due another chapter of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/931216/chapters/1811863">All's Fair in Love and Drinking Games</a>, so I had the perfect storm. Here’s some barely-edited fluff for my writing and hopefully your reading pleasure, inspired by <a href="http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/59759230380/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-running-up-behind">this post</a> from imagineyourotp on Tumblr.</p>
    </blockquote>





	It Feels Fantastic

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write some Johnlock fluff. I also wanted to post Johnlock before I was due another chapter of [All's Fair in Love and Drinking Games](http://archiveofourown.org/works/931216/chapters/1811863), so I had the perfect storm. Here’s some barely-edited fluff for my writing and hopefully your reading pleasure, inspired by [this post](http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/59759230380/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-running-up-behind) from imagineyourotp on Tumblr.

Sherlock had taken the call from Lestrade and left John behind once again, and so John was forced to make his own call to find the crime scene.

“Greg, where did you send Sherlock off to?”

“Brentwood.”

“ _Brentwood?_ For Christ’s sake…”

John threw on his coat and made it halfway down the stairs before turning around and deciding it wasn’t worth going. If Sherlock was ever going to learn not to run off without him, _he_ was going to have to stop giving in and following.

Tossing his coat aside, John sat in his usual chair and opened his laptop.

A quick look at the blog showed no surprises, and two cups of tea did little to entertain him.

Half an hour after he’d decided to stay, he decided that that had been the worst decision he’d made all week.

“Bloody ridiculous,” he grumbled, throwing his coat over his shoulders once more.

+++

By the end of the drive, Sherlock was already hopping into another cab. John raced to catch it before it left and grabbed Sherlock by his collar, dragging him away from the vehicle.

“John, there you are.”

“Yeah, here I am,” he almost shouted, completely irate.

“What took you so long?”

“What…what _took me so long?_ ” John could feel the heat rising in his neck, and apparently Sherlock could see it, because his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“With _me?_ What’s the matter with you, you tosspot? You left me behind. _Again_.”

Sherlock looked at him in confusion, an endearing look that John sometimes wished he saw more often, but that he sometimes wished would disappear, because it meant seeing Sherlock vulnerable, which was almost as bad as Sherlock in one of his black moods, although for entirely different reasons.

It seemed to dawn on Sherlock, perhaps by the look on John’s face, that what he’d done was wrong. His eyes found John’s shoes and he said, “I’m sorry, John.”

“Well, you should be!” John made to storm away, but stopped after a few steps, his anger softening. He turned back to Sherlock. “Just…try not to forget about me, yeah?”

Sherlock nodded. “How could I ever forget you, John?”

John shook his head and turned back to the cab. Before he was halfway to it, however, he heard running footsteps quickly followed by long, lean arms wrapping themselves around his waist.

Sherlock lifted him off the ground and spun around, making his legs swing out and nearly kick the door of the cab shut. Before he could protest being handled like a ragdoll, however, his feet found the ground once again, Sherlock still holding him close from behind.

John’s words stuck in his throat, so it took him a while to work up a simple “What was that?” Before he could even say them, though, Sherlock provided an answer.

“I’ve just realized I’m in love with you, and it feels fantastic.”


End file.
